I Don’t Want To Be A Mommy Today

I know it sounds bad and I really hate to admit it, but I just don't want to be the mommy today. I don't want to be the taxi driver or the lunch packer; the homework helper or the bedtime story reader. I don't want to be the menu planner or the permission slip signer or the medicine dispenser. I don't want to be the laundry doer or the dishwasher; the errand runner or the maid. I don't want to be the schedule enforcer. I don't want to be the referee.

Becoming a mommy was a conscious choice for me, but for so long now, it seems that is all I have been—the mommy. So, if I'm not the mommy, not all these things, what would I be? Perhaps I'd be a high powered executive, trading in my jeans and yoga pants for a power suit and heels. A mover and shaker. Perhaps I would be a writer—a real writer—with a book deal and a best-seller. Or maybe I'd be on a beach somewhere wearing a bikini on a better, non-mom kind of body. I would love to be a traveler, a jet-setter, seeing places near and far. I could post pictures of my excursions on Facebook so that others could envy my “rock star” lifestyle. Better yet, maybe I could just be an actual rock star with fans yelling for an autograph rather than munchkins yelling for some juice.

These are lofty dreams, I know, but mommies are masters of imagination. Sometimes I just want to be someone else; to be somewhere else.

The truth is I love my kids. I would jump in front of a bullet for my kids. I would do anything to spare them from hurt and heartache. This is the life I wanted; the life that I convinced my husband was the right decision many years ago. Like every job, though, this one has up and downs; good days and bad days. Sometimes, the monotony gets, well, monotonous. I feel like a gerbil on one of this ridiculous wheels; running and running, but getting nowhere. Sometimes I wonder if there is more to life than household chores and sibling rivalry and a running a minivan taxi service. Sometimes I want to feel like I have accomplished something—something significant, something more, something that will really make a mark on this world.

Before I go to sleep; before I get rested up to repeat the same old routine tomorrow, I look in on their angel faces one last time. Sleeping. Peaceful. They have their own dreams. They have places to go and things to do—things to be. I realize my job is to get them there. That will be my accomplishment. They will be my mark. There is nothing more significant than this; no job more important. Nothing is more significant and important than them. It's not always easy or glamorous or appreciated. It's not always what I thought it would be; not always what I want it to be.

However, motherhood is a gift. I didn’t appreciate it like I should today. Tomorrow is a new day and in the midst of the monotony, I will remember to be grateful for the blessing.

About the Author

Lisa Witherspoon

Lisa Witherspoon is a stay at home mom to her three daughters and Director of Household Operations in the "Spoon" home. She blogs about the joys, frustrations, surprises, and chaos of motherhood on her blog, and is also a contributing author in The Mother of All Meltdowns anthology.